Hogwarts in Red
by SilentChild187
Summary: Kaneki has lost against Arima. However, instead of becoming a ghoul investigator, Arima has others plans and sends him to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft undercover to protect a certain Harry Potter. Nothing can be worse than being trapped inside a magical castle, right? INFREQUENT UPDATES
1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts in Red

Kaneki has lost against Arima. However, instead of becoming a ghoul investigator, Arima has others plans, and sends him to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft undercover to protect a certain Harry Potter. Nothing can be worse than being trapped inside a magical castle, right?

Chapter One — Submission

 **A/N : Okay, so this is a Hogwarts AU, and this follows the ANIME plot, not the MANGA one because I've only watched the anime. Since Kaneki is a little too old to be a student, he will be assigned as a teaching assistant for DADA. This story takes place in Harry's fifth year (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix), however, the original HP plot line might be slightly altered. Like, I might switch the chronological order of events, or add an mini event of my own that will generally not change the outcome.**

 **This story has not been edited or proofread. All mistakes are either typos or a result of the author's incompetence/sleepiness. Looking for consecutive and criticising reviews that will provide good feedback for me to improve.**

Kaneki lay on the ground, breathing heavily. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore. In fact, he couldn't feel his entire body. The cold spread, from his abdomen to his arms and feet, freezing him in place until he was completely paralysed. Move, goddamit! Move! His fingers twitched slightly, but beyond that, nothing happened. It was all silent, except for Kaneki's rasping breaths as oxygen rattled in his dead lungs.

Why wasn't he moving?

It was so cold.

The blood kept pouring, red and fresh on the snow where he had collapsed. The cold dragged him down, heavy as chains. I don't stand a chance against someone like Arima, he thought sluggishly, as he tried to get up, failing miserably. I have to get to Hide. I have to protect Touka and everyone in Anteiku. I have to move. Get up get up get up! His limbs were rejecting his commands, silently locked together. Kaneki glared up at Arima, who stood as impassive as ever, not a speck of blood on his pristine white coat. He had hoped to convey all his hatred through his kakugan, but blackness crowded his vision, and he had to fall limply back into the soft, cold snow.

Hatred was such a useful emotion.

The falling flakes settled on his ripped black suit, kissing his exposed skin, and the cold intensified. He had to be shivering. Why wasn't he shivering? Why couldn't anyone else feel the cold?

"Do you submit?" Arima asked, still standing over him.

Kaneki gritted his teeth, and willed the cold away. Fight! Incredibly, some feeling was cold was sapping his strength away, but his kagune was starting to tremble underneath him. He couldn't feel them, only the slight vibrations.

"Never," he breathed, the whisper falling from his chapped and frozen lips, but infinitely loud in his ears. He struggled upwards, slipping more than once on the red snow, but eventually the cold left his body, replaced by the burning will, and he was free to move. The wound on his abdomen, still gapingly large and oozing blood, now no longer hurt.

He had been pass the point of pain a long time ago.

He stayed in the kneeling position, white head bowed down, in front of Arima. It almost appeared as if he was begging him. Then, suddenly, his kagune whipped forward, crimson and white in their glory.

Arima had not moved an inch, instead calmly dispatching his quinque, deflecting all the blows at lightning speed and striking Kaneki once again. He could not dodge, as his body spasmed in protest from the immense blood loss and the wracking agony that he did not feel. He was numb.

He had been numb for a long time.

"Do you submit?"

Kaneki shook his head, as if clearing the residue centipedes clouding his mind. "Never," he mouthed, falling against the blanket of snow again, eye staring sightlessly at the drifting snow and the sapphire blue sky. So cold.

The cold invaded him, starting from the abdomen. He was so cold. He could not move. Too cold.

The flickering darkness against his eyelids, they seemed welcoming. He could be warm.

Never.

He didn't get up again.

—

The next time he woke up, a spotless white ceiling greeted him. The soft bed underneath him was unfamiliar, and he quickly jerked upwards, ready to strike at any sign of danger, only to find out that he could not.

His hands and legs were chained to the bed. Simple steel cuffs designed to restrict movement. His breath caught, the memories rushing through his head—scratched skin, blood in a bucket, dripping on the ground, fingers here and gone, centipedes in my ears—

What's one thousand minus seven?

Crackle of knuckles.

His laugh.

His scream.

The floor was red.

Nine hundred and ninety three.

My fingers are gone.

The voices rose into a crescendo, until he was clutching his head, trying to free himself—

"Mr. Kaneki." The emotionless and blank voice of Arima brought him back to the present, as he composed himself, closing his eyes to blink the images away.

Blood.

"Why am I still alive?" Kaneki intoned softly with a touch of genuine curiosity and sadistic humour. This wasn't mercy. Mercy wasn't chaining up an enemy.

Arima didn't bat an eyelash. Kaneki noticed his ever present suitcase next to him, out of arm's reach. "I will be straightforward with you, Mr. Kaneki. You will have two options." Arima continued, as if Kaneki hadn't said anything. "One, you can join CCG."

Kaneki wondered if he had heard it correct. Or maybe Arima was insane, just like him, because there was no way they'd accept a ghoul into their forces, much less an SS-rated one.

"Of course, we will have to wipe your memories away. If you are not comfortable with this arrangement, there is always the other option." Kaneki's eyes snapped up to meet Arima's. The man was being completely serious. When had he not been serious?

He was so messed up. They were both so messed up. A ghoul becoming a dove.

He had a feeling the second option would be even more bizarre.

A ghoul becoming a dove? That'll happen when Hell freezes over.

Kaneki caught the twinkle in the man's otherwise empty eyes. It was not a good twinkle. "You can head for England and attend the Hogwart's School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, as an undercover assistant professor."

Kaneki blinked again.

Alright. He had to do something about his hearing problems, because no way—wizardry and witchcraft? Magic?

Magic didn't exist.

Arima was missing some marbles.

Yet a part of his mind, the book loving and idealistic Kaneki Ken whom he thought he had squashed forever, whispered, If ghouls can exist, why not magic?

"Magic is not real, Mr. Arima."

"These are your choices, Mr. Kaneki."

"What if I refuse?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

Kaneki remained still. Losing his memories…that sounded good. He wouldn't have to remember any of his torture, remember being a ghoul, remember the blood on his hands. Then he thought of Hide, and thought, No. I cannot ever erase Hide from my mind. Nor could he erase Anteiku or Aogiri. They were part of him, however he wished otherwise. Take it all away, and he was nothing but an empty shell.

Besides, he'd make for a pretty bad investigator. Why was he even thinking about this?

Magic and witchcraft? Ridiculous.

Kaneki knew he was definitely insane when he whispered, "Tell me more about the magic school."

—

By the time Arima finished speaking, Kaneki knew he was in deep trouble. Aside from the fact he had no idea what he would be doing, he would now be in a completely new environment. However, he kept his face as neutral as possible.

"Are you clear about the mission?"

Kaneki deflected the question. "What makes you so confident that I won't run away?"

Arima merely raised an eyebrow.

Kaneki stared forlornly at his chains, refusing to look at Arima.

"If you have no questions, your mission starts now. I shall accompany you to Hogwarts and help you get acquainted."

Arima unlocked the cuffs, and Kaneki shook his wrists and ankles, relishing the freedom. "Come."

Kaneki gracefully drew himself from the bed, and followed Arima without protest.

—

It was rather hard to believe why a castle was made into a school, but Kaneki spared no thought at it, barely glancing at Hogwarts once before returning to his former job of analysing his surroundings. There was a dense forest next to the castle, and Kaneki could feel and smell the numerous life forms and the stench of blood. Hm.

Arima had told him to wear a robe over his form fitting bodysuit, seeing that he needed to be ready at all times. Donning the robe on, he felt quite silly as the rough and coarse fabric settled over his shoulders. "You'll be an assistant professor," Arima told him. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

I'm a monster. Ghouls are monsters. Monsters are dark arts. Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Basically I'm teaching them to defend themselves from me.

The sheer wryness of the situation made him chuckle.

They stepped into the interior of Hogwarts. The students hadn't arrived yet, since Kaneki had to be introduced to Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the only soul in the school to know his true identity.

They went up winding staircases, the portraits (he ignored them) staring and pointing at him. Or Arima. Whichever. He didn't really care.

Nine hundred and eighty six.

Their footsteps echoed in the halls as they ascended to Dumbledore's office. The old wizard was inside. Arima knocked, and Kaneki trailed behind him.

"Dumbledore." Arima bowed stiffly, and Kaneki followed suite. The old man's eyes twinkled. "Ah, Arima! I haven't seen you for a while." His gaze moved towards Kaneki. If he was shocked at his mask, the surprise didn't show. "And this fine young man is…"

"Kaneki Ken."

"So you'll be the new assistant professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Please, have a lemon drop."

The headmaster was trying him.

Kaneki declined.

"To cut to the chase…" Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "I believe you are a Ghoul, Mr. Kaneki?"

Kaneki nodded affirmation, seeing no need to expose his half ghoul status.

"And you are willing to protect Harry Potter?"

More like coerced. Or forced.

"Yes."

"Good that's settled. As for your eating diet, I will arrange someone to transpose your food to you. Your room will be on the seventh floor. Is that alright?"

Kaneki dipped his head.

"I shall bid my leave now. Dumbledore. Mr. Kaneki." Kaneki did not miss the glance tossed his way as his only link to Tokyo disappeared.

"Now then, Mr. Kaneki." Dumbledore laced his fingers. "Shall we introduce you to the other professors before the students arrive?"

—

Minerva McGonagall had seen many strange things. Growing up in a wizard community tended to do that. But nothing was stranger than the young man standing in front of her, silvery white hair shielding his eyes as Dumbledore introduced him.

"My dear teachers, may we please include Mr. Kaneki Ken into our teaching ranks. He will serve as an assistant teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts and anything else that needs a substitute."

Kaneki's head rose up, and Minerva had to hold back a shiver at the flat, dead eyes. His presence itself was screaming danger and fear. "I was not aware of that arrangement. I only specialise in Defence and martial arts." His voice was soft and cold, so soft that she had to strain her ears to hear. But the blank and empty tone chilled her to bone, and once again she wondered why Albus would assign someone like this to teach students. And what had happened to make such a young man so hollow.

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Mr. Kaneki." Dumbledore brushed the statement away.

"Excuse me, I was not aware there was a teacher's meeting—oh!" Minerva gritted her teeth. It was that annoying pink toad again. Her voice filled with arrogance as she glanced at Kaneki, whose head was down again, "And who might this be?"

"The new assistant professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Umbridge."

Umbridge frowned."The Ministry is not aware of this."

The Ministry this, the Ministry that.

Oh, how she hated this woman.

"The arrangements were made hastily yesterday. Mr. Kaneki had just made his decision to join us."

"What's your name then? You look nothing more than a boy." Umbridge sniffed.

"Kaneki Ken." He replied in his dull tone, showing no anger at the premonition of being called a boy. Minerva was surprised at his self control. Weren't teenagers supposed to be angsty and emotional? And for once Umbridge was correct, he looked like a boy in his late teens.

For a moment, silence fell upon the group of teachers. Then Umbridge resumed her questioning at Kaneki, who never answered more than a few sentences.

"Where do you come from?"

"Tokyo, Japan."

"How old are you?" "Twenty."

"Why do you wear that horrifying mask?"

"Old tradition."

This continued for a while, until Umbridge was fed up with the amount of information she was getting.

"Alright." Umbridge drew her attention away from Kaneki, and haughtily stared at the other teachers. "Now, as said, I am a representation of the Ministry here to ensure that students in Hogwarts are receiving a Ministry-approved educational course…" and Minerva began to tune out. She'd heard all this from the Minister himself already, in a lower pitch.

She instead started to study Kaneki. His hair glowed silver underneath the flickering candle lights, and his visible eye was still shielded by his hair strands. The mask he was wearing did draw stares, but he ignored all of them. It covered one eye and the lower half of his face, made of some black material. A grotesque smile stretched wide open, showing the gums and the teeth, and it had a zipper over it, she noticed. The robe he wore was loose and fluttered around him. His hands were hidden amongst the robe folds, but as he shifted, Minerva caught a glimpse of the pale hand and the inky black fingernails.

She had a feeling that those fingernails were more than a fashion statement.

His feet were encased with black leather…boots? She couldn't tell. Around his ankles encircled silver circles.

After Umbridge finished her little speech, Minerva still hadn't gotten a single read on the boy. Albus stood up, clapping, and others reluctantly following, except for Kaneki, who hadn't even moved, silent as a statue.

The teachers dispersed, and Minerva was just ready to go down and greet the first years when Dumbledore placed a hand on her should amicably and said, "Minerva, could you show Kaneki his room? It's up in the seventh floor." There was only one room there.

Minerva nodded. "Follow me." She walked out of the room, hearing the slow thud of Kaneki's footsteps as it echoed behind her, causing her to jump slightly.

He's just a teaching assistant, barely an adult. There's nothing to be afraid of. She tried reassuring her thumping heart, to no avail.

The way up to seventh floor was silent. No words were exchanged, save the 'thank you' Kaneki murmured when they arrived his room, a small but comfortable lodge. "If you need anything, ring the bell." She instructed, pointing at the small golden device hanging next to the bed. By then, Kaneki was already shrugging off his robe with an expression she could best describe as distaste, his first emotion, and she was rather shocked to see the clothing underneath—it wasn't exactly Muggle-like, but you didn't see a tight form fitting black bodysuit on the streets of Diagon Alley often.

Kaneki raised an eyebrow at her staring, and she hurried away.

A/N : Mini spoiler—Kaneki will be meeting the Order during Christmas, not summer. A minor plot change.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two—Centipedes

A/N : Wow. That's all I can say. I've had so many favourites and follows and reviews (thank you everyone who reviewed—I won't be replying to them, but I appreciate them all the same :D I'll go back and edit the chapters soon, maybe when I'm at the middle of the story). And I would just like to point out once again (as said in the summary) that I won't be updating very frequent. Y'know, life sucks. I'll try to do it as fast as I can, but please don't be surprised if there's, like, a few months' gap between the updates.

Referencing — The entire Sorting and Umbridge's speech is directly from the book.

This was Harry's worst summer. He had been looking forward to attending Hogwarts again for his fifth year. Never had he thought that he would almost be expelled.

It was stupid, really. It wasn't as if he was using magic on purpose. What was he supposed to do when the Dementors attacked, let them suck his soul out?

But he did admit that he breached their rule. And those tense months of not hearing anything….

So now, when they finally allowed him to go back, he had been gratified. Ron and Hermione fussed over him, of course, but so far he seemed to have left his bad luck in summer behind. However, after hearing Hagrid's disappearance, he didn't seem so sure.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of two gave Harry airy, over-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him about a split second ago. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table to ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"He's not there."

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any line-up.

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," Harry said firmly.

"You don't think he's…hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.

"No," said Harry at once.

"But where is he, then?"

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know—from his mission—the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

"Yeah….yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Who are they?" she said sharply, pointing towards the staff table.

Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toad-like face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"It's that Umbridge woman!"

"Who?" said Hermione.

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking, missing the point.

"She works for Fudge!" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno…"

Hermione scanned the staff table again, her eyes narrowed, then her lips parted in surprise. "Who…" Harry looked at the staff table again.

In his haste to find Hagrid, he had completely missed the newest and youngest teacher sitting at the very edge. He was quite easy to miss, with his simple black robes and snow white hair, but when he raised his head, his cool, icy gaze met Harry's for a split second, and he was frozen. Paralysed. The grotesque mask covering his lower half of his face was split by a gum showing smile, teeth bared. Then he looked down again, and Harry was left puzzled and quite intimidated.

Just as he prepared to ask Hermione about the two new teachers, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, and stepped back.

The first years' faces glowed palely in the candle-light. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Harry recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which house he belonged.

The whole school waited with baited breath. Then the up near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name,'

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife

When they first came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once help up our school,

Now turned upon each other and

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song :

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong.

Though I must fulfil my duty

And quarter every year

I still wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you…

Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was scattered for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors, and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Too right it has." said Harry.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in the Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, her tone slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels—"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-though finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept over the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called on the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could heart Ron's stomach grumbling loudly. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "Welcome! To our hold hands—welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Harry could hear Ron praising Dumbledore amongst the sound of applause as the Headmaster sat down.

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" said Hermione, persistent as ever. "About the Hat giving warnings?"

"I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?" Ron swallowed his lamb chops.

"I haven't a clue."

Harry turned his attention away from the conversation to observe the staff table again, trying to squash the growing anxiety at Hagrid's absence. He did notice, however, the new teacher—the one that wasn't Umbridge—wasn't eating at all, but sipping something that looked like…coffee?

When the students had finished stuffing themselves and the noise level crept up again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Expectant faces turned towards him.

"Now that we're beginning to digest another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices." said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." Harry could feel Dumbledore's gaze on them as Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged smirks and knowing glances.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list nailed on Mr. Filch's office door."

"We have a few changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge and Mr. Kaneki Ken, teacher and teaching assistant of Defence Against the Dark Arts respectively." For a moment, nobody breathed as the white-haired male finally lifted his head, and revealed his pale grey eye, hard and cold as flint. The students now openly stared at the new teachers, or more likely, the horrid mask that belonged to Mr. Kanek Ken, the applause being few and unenthusiastic.

"Wow," Ron breathed. "Blimey. I've never seen anyone as terrifying as he is without even trying!"

"Shhhh!" Hermione shushed him as Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the Quidditch will be—"

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had suddenly stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat (hem, hem), and became clear that she was about to give a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a second, then he smartly sat down and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing but to listen to her. The other staff members were less adept at hiding their surprise—Snape's lips were curled in a smirk, and Professor Sprout's eyebrows had flown away. Mr. Kaneki just looked as impassive as ever, still drinking his coffee. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore in the middle of a speech, and it was obvious, to everyone present in the Great Hall, that this woman did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," said Professor Umbridge snidely, her words honeyed and sweet. Harry despised her, even though they were barely acquainted. There was just an intense dislike bubbling under his skin. He couldn't explain it.

"Well, it is lovely to be at Hogwarts, I must say!" she said, smiling. It looked more like a shark's grin. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Umbridge, he decided, most definitely did not know how to connect with teenagers.

None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five-years-old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

There were many snickers, which Umbridge ignored and started her main speech.

'The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards two be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed with careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching." Here, Professor Umbridge stopped and gave a little bow to the other professors, none of them acknowledged it. Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again (hem, hem) and plunged on.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay; therefore progress for progress' sake must be encouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

Harry found his attention sliding, as the quiet that usually settled over the Hall when Dumbledore was talking was now punctured with chatters and whispers; clearly, nobody was paying any more attention. A group of fourth years from the Hufflepuff table had started to talk animatedly, and Luna Lovegood had taken her Quibbler out and was starting to read it upside down.

Professor Umbridge appeared not aware of the attentiveness of her audience. A full-scale riot could have happened underneath her nose and she would've still been speaking. The only few students who were still listening were the prefects with glassy-eyes, trying to live up the sparkling badge on their chest. Hermione appeared to be soaking in every single word, but the crease between her brows was not a good sign. The teachers were still listening attentively.

"…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down.

Dumbledore clapped, as did some of the teachers. Kaneki and Snape were outright not clapping, the former still drinking coffee. Harry was beginning to think that the cup was auto-refill.

A few students quickly joined in the clapping, following Dumbledore's suite, but most of them had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, having not paying attention. Before they could properly start applauding, Dumbledore had taken Umbridge's place and was starting to talk again.

"Thank you for that illuminating speech, Professor Umbridge," he said, bowing to her. "As I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

"Yes, it was certainly very illuminating," Hermione stated in a low voice.

"You can't tell me you actually enjoyed that bloody speech!" Ron said. "That was the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable." said Hermione. "It does explain a lot of things."

"Really?" Harry said in surprise. "It sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was important stuff hidden in the waffle." Hermione said grimly.

"What?"

"The Ministry's interfering with Hogwarts." Hermione stated. "But the question is, why now?"

Just then, everyone started to stand up; Dumbledore had dismissed them. Hermione leapt out of her seat. "Ron, we're supposed to lead the first-years!"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, scratching an itch on his shoulder and not looking the least bit a prefect, "Hey—hey! You lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are titchy…"

"I know, but you can't…cannot just call them midgets! First-years, this way please!" Hermione called out in a commanding tone.

—

Kaneki kept to his room as much as possible. He knew that he was terrifying. It was the human nature to recoil and fear against ghouls, even stick wielding humans. But he did establish some contact points throughout the castle, to make sure that no harm befell Harry, and his friends by extension when he was in his room, trying to control his kagune.

He had memorized the castle interior thoroughly. It looked like a giant twist of a maze and medieval castle with haphazard and endless amounts of staircases. Really, if this was supposed to be a school, why would someone put fatal-injury inducing staircases?

Well, the wizards were weird he supposed.

Oh, and you're now the sanest person to judge?

Kaneki had wanted to check out the Forbidden Forest right next to Hogwarts. Dumbledore told him that dangerous creatures resided inside, but he rebuffed and said he was a dangerous creature himself. Dumbledore had agreed to let him go, on the condition that he was not to engage with the centaurs. Dumbledore had also half hinted that he wanted to see his actual ghoul form and abilities (why he would accept Arima's help without even knowing how that help worked was beyond him), but Kaneki stated that he would get to see it during actual battle.

As he left the office, he wondered why he was actually asking Dumbledore for permission to go to Forbidden Forest. He was supposed to be a bodyguard, did that mean he had to listen to Dumbledore? Well, Arima did leave him in Dumbledore's…care. He supposed so, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

He ascended to the Astronomy Tower, standing at the very edge, very still. The fall was long and hard. Not even a ghoul could survive that.

You're just an ordinary ghoul, aren't you.

He wasn't.

He leapt.

And disappeared.

In reality, he had started running the moment his feet touched the ground, and within moments he had entered the forest. It was dark, the moonlight not able to shine through the dense layers of leaves and canopy. But that wasn't a problem, as the trees blurred around him, branches and leaves leaving gorge marks and scratches that healed as soon as it was inflicted. He was sensing a lot of noises and creatures, but they all seemed to shy away from him. The stench of blood was quite heavy in the air, but Kaneki did suppose the Forbidden Forest was dangerous in its own way.

The forest was large, and it took Kaneki a full five minutes to reach a clearing and…was that a cliff edge?…he wasn't sure. But even he didn't dare venture into the clearing and instead started to double back. His conclusion from his little trip was that the creatures in the Forbidden Forest were many but few would approach him. They weren't dangerous as to able to harm him, but would most certainly kill an adult wizard had he ventured alone.

He had paused a little, surveying the clearing and committing the eerie scene to his mind when he caught a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. He turned, tense and ready for danger.

And he had to bite back a scream as the unwanted images flooded his mind.

His fingers regrowing each day.

I'm a monster.

I will show you pain.

Let me devour you!

The centipedes in my ears.

It's not me that's wrong, it's the world.

Nine hundred…and ninety-three…

He was screaming again.

Threats and promises of agony.

The bucket full of blood.

The pain, oh the pain.

At some point throughout his emotional outburst, his kakuja had burst out, the tentacles and centipede extensions wrapped and spread around himself, and he could feel tears leaking from his kakugan, bloody red and crystal clear.

Stop! Please, I'm begging you!

Do you what Chinese centipedes do?

Fingers on a bench…

You're weak.

Your mother was weak.

Eat.

I am…a ghoul.

A monster.

A murderer.

Count down from one thousand by sevenths.

The numbers were my sanity.

There's none of my sanity left.

Kaneki screamed, his fist pressed against his temple, trying to force the images, the voices out. "Stop!"

He drew in a huge, shuddering breath, then another, and another, trying to force himself to calm down. His throat was hoarse; he must've been screaming. His kagune slowly retracted, fading into red mist. His breaths starting to even, his kakugan disappeared as well. The track of tears was gone. He stood up slowly and surveyed the damage around him. The scored trees were all collapsed against each other, clearing a circle of grass patches around him. The moonlight on his face was soft and gentle.

The centipede was nowhere to be seen.

—

That morning, in the wee hours of light, Dumbledore found Kaneki in his office. The one-eyed ghoul looked shattered, even more broken than when he first came. He beckoned Kaneki in.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Kaneki shook his head. "You have to tell Arima that I can't continue the guarding job."

Dumbledore leaned back on his chair. "Will you tell me why?"

Kaneki sighed. "I'm mentally instable. Lately the instability has risen. I was lucky this bout happened far away from Hogwarts. The next time, not so much."

"Oh dear." Arima did mention something about it, vaguely, but had told him it wouldn't interfere with the job. "And is there some way—"

"I get triggered by the littlest of things," the boy continued as if he hadn't said anything. "That won't do in battle."

"Can you tell me what? If it's within power, we can try eradicating it."

Kaneki hesitated, then cracked his fingers. Dumbledore didn't flinch at the sharp crack. "You can't." his voice was soft again. "You can't risk these attacks. I'll kill everyone in the room in two seconds, and I won't even have noticed."

"We can see if Severus has some potions for your situation."

Kaneki glared at him. "I'm sorry, but I haven't truly seen magic myself, and I can't trust anything I haven't witnessed first hand. If it doesn't work, it's your students that die. I warned you." He turned on his heel and left.

Dumbledore watched him disappear, and took out a coin, a large shining Galleon. He pressed it, and Arima's face appeared. "Arima," he started. "Is there any way to help Kaneki with his mental stability?"

"Did he kill anyone this time?" Arima asked offhandedly.

"No. He doesn't have lessons as of yet."

Arima stroke his chin. "Keep him in. I'll send someone else in to keep his mental state a secret and possibly cover for Kaneki. At this moment, Kaneki's mental state cannot be helped."

"May I ask, what happened?"

Arima lightly shook his head, and his face disappeared from the coin.

"Send Severus in."

After a moment, Severus Snape entered, his black robe flapping behind him. "Was there any particular reason you're finding me this early in the morning?"

"Do you have adequate ingredients to create a potion that improves the mental state of a person?"

"It depends whether you are talking about asylum patients that are insane 24/7, or people who have flashes of instability every once a while."

"The latter."

"I do have the ingredients, but I need to know the reason behind the flashes."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "Thank you, Severus. I can schedule a session for you and Kaneki later today."

"Oh?" Severus' eyes sharpened with interest. "It's him who needs it?"

"Most certainly."

"Very well." Severus didn't pry anymore.

—

When Kaneki learned that he would be scheduled a session with Severus Snape, he wasn't that pleased. What was Dumbledore thinking? However, he was a little curious. Curious to see if the potion had any use.

Kaneki barely noticed the temperature of the dungeon as he entered, finding Severus seated. "Mr. Snape." Kaneki dipped his head in greeting and respect. He recognised that broken look in Snape's eyes.

"Call me Snape." The man scrutinised Kaneki.

"Then you may call me Kaneki."

"I will cut to the chase then, Kaneki. When Dumbledore told me you were somewhat mentally unstable, I was a little surprised. A little. You're quite young to have experienced traumatising events."

"Like attracts like."

"You're quite observant. Very well, in order to make this potion, I need to understand you better, or more specifically, what traumatised you."

"I'm not disclosing private information."

Snape's tone turned a little acid. "Then I can't help you."

Kaneki sighed. He hadn't imagined things would turn out this way. "May we compromise? I'll ask you a question, and you ask one back, for three rounds."

Snape nodded, somewhat calmer. "You can go first."

Kaneki smiled. "Who's Lily, and what does she mean to you?"

For a terrible moment, Snape just stared at him, perhaps too shocked to react. His fingers were digging into the table, his knuckles white. Then he visibly tried to calm himself, and managed to regain his composure. "I do not know anyone with the name of Lily."

"We might have to establish an honesty rule here."

Snape scanned Kaneki's face. "How did you tell?"

Kaneki cracked his knuckle. "Observations."

Snape bowed his head. "She…she was my love interest and my best friend, but I scared her away. I've tried to redeem myself, but everything I did just furthered her demise. She's dead now."

"You may now ask one question of myself."

"What was the event that traumatised you that badly?"

Kaneki cracked his knuckle again, the sharp sound echoing in the dungeon. "I was kidnapped and tortured for two weeks. After that…" He breathed a sigh. "It was the only way to get stronger."

Snape didn't pry any further.

"Are you a double spy for Dumbledore?"

Snape looked at him humourlessly. "You are truly the most cunning person I've ever met."

Kaneki didn't even need the confirmation.

"Next question : What physical object or animal do you fear the most?"

"Physical object or animal…" Kaneki stroked his chin. "Myself."

Snape gave him the look.

"Chinese red-headed centipedes." Kaneki braced himself. When no images barrelled into his mind, he breathed a short sigh of relief.

"My third question is…would you die in Lily's place?"

"Yes."

Kaneki started chuckling, which grew into laughter. The bitter sound echoed throughout the chamber. He waited until his laughing fit subsided before speaking. "I've always thought strength was protecting the ones you loved. It was always better being hurt yourself than seeing others hurt. My views have changed now, but evidently…" he broke off into giggles again. "I've never seen this type of strength before. The strength of death and sacrifice. Makes me think how clueless I once was." He choked with laughter, the unfamiliar sound coarse in his throat.

"You are truly an exceptional man, Snape." Kaneki smiled. "You can ask your last question."

"What happened to the man who tortured you?"

Kaneki's smile twisted into something sinister. "He's been taken care of."

A/N : Alright I know that's a lot of filler crap and not much stuff happening except for that mental state thing that will play a big part in the story plot and how it affects stuff, but I promise new characters will join Kaneki in the next chapter (that's a teeny spoiler).

Please forgive any typos or grammatical/spelling mistakes.

I took big chunks out of the book to complete this chapter, and chapter three will be similar since I'm trying to stick close to the plot as possible, but I will not be including Quidditch matches or whatever that I don't feel is too relevant to the story.

(Yeah and I know my story's really weird I don't even know what I'm doing)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three — Pretty Little Psycho**

 **A/N : Generally no ships in this fic except for the canon HP ships. Normal stuff.**

 **I apologise once again, I was lazy and basically took a large chunk of the DADA lesson, edited a bit of the dialogue and added Kaneki in**

 **Frick I just reread some of the scenes and now I'm cringing.**

It was a relief that he wasn't actually expected to do anything except to sit and survey the students. Immensely boring, sure, but he had picked up _Hogwarts: A History_ from the library so he could understand the history of magic better, and was now completely immersed in the book. Ah, the joy of reading.

However, he did notice something off. First of all, Kaneki was quite sure Dolores Umbridge had to be a joke. He'd privately asked Dumbledore about it, and got the vague story—the Ministry throwing a hissy fit and all. _Really,_ he thought to himself, _They should be mature enough to know the warning signs._

Secondly, Umbridge was one of those strictly disciplined and good lap-dog kind of teacher, only seeking the recognition and favour she would get from the Ministry. When she had said, "Wands away," he suspected something was up. Judging from other classes he'd previewed and the gloomy and shocked looks on the students' faces was enough to tell him that this was not a daily occurrence. Didn't the point of defending oneself against dark arts stemmed from basic wand magic? He found it silly that Umbridge, or rather, the Ministry thought a theory-based education would keep them in check. That was just looking for rebellion.

When Umbridge had ordered the class to start reading Chapter One of _Defence Magical Theory,_ Kaneki noted, with a certain degree of amusement, that Hermione (he was trying to get the names of Harry's friends and acquaintances) had not opened her textbook and was resolutely sitting straight with her hand in the air. Umbridge was looking just as resolutely the other way, refusing to acknowledge the question.

Kaneki smiled behind his coffee cup as people started looking at Hermione instead of their books. He turned towards the pink woman, "Professor Umbridge," he stated softly. "Ms. Granger has a question."

Hermione sent him a surprised look, as did Ron and Harry. It was one of the first times that a teacher had sided with the students.

There was no way Umbridge could ignore the situation.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" She asked, as if just noticing Hermione.

 **"** Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Umbridge. "If you have any other queries, you can ask them at the end of the class."

"I've got a question about your course aims," said Hermione. By now, the entire class had stopped futilely attempting to read the book, and was staring at them, fascinated.

Professor Umbridge raised an eyebrow. "And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge said with sickly sweetness.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Harry watched Hermione. "Well, I don't." She said bluntly. "There's nothing up there about _using_ defensive spells."

There was a short silence where many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims written on the blackboard.

" _Using_ defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Harry saw Kaneki rubbing his forehead in the background.

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. The brightly dressed professor's gaze lingered on Harry for a while before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes." Hermione answered. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"

Harry saw Kaneki closing the book he'd been reading.

"No, but—"

"But I am." Kaneki stated. Professor Umbridge whirled around to face the white-haired boy.

"Mr. Kaneki, I have not seen your name listed in the Ministry officials."

"I am part of the Japanese Ministry." Kaneki said stiffly, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Well then, I'm afraid you cannot interfere with my class. We will be learning defensive spells theory-wise—"

"What use is that? If we're attacked, we—" Harry blurted, furious.

"The point of being a teacher assistant is to aid in creating a better learning environment," Kaneki cut in smoothly, shooting Harry a look that told him to drop it. "And I do not agree with your new programme of study."

Before Umbridge could reply, Dean was speaking. "Harry's right, if we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free,"

"I repeat," said Umbridge, "Do you expect to get attacked during classes?"

"Excuse me, Professor." Kaneki spoke up again. "But there are many other dangerous creatures. Take Tokyo for example. Humans coexist with a deadly sort of creature called ghouls. They feast on human flesh to survive, and they possess superhuman abilities. They are responsible for most of the human deaths in Japan. If you were not properly defended, you would die for sure." Kaneki fixed his unwavering single eye on Umbridge. "Learning the theory is not enough. Putting it in practise will help refine spell casting ability."

"Mr. Kaneki, this is not Tokyo—"

"Ghouls are not the only danger."

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry said loudly.

"This is school, not the real world." Umbridge uttered softly.

"The purpose of school is to prepare students for the real world." Kaneki said just as softly.

"There is nothing out there in the real world—"

"Oh yeah?" Harry retorted. His temper, which had been boiling under the surface for the entire day, now reached its point. "How about Voldemort?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

"Ten points _to_ Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for your wonderful insight and excellent precautionary." Kaneki interjected, and faced Umbridge. "Mr. Potter raises a valid point. And whether or not Lord Voldemort exists or not is not the only point of this lesson."

Umbridge ignored him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. That is a LIE."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to shout, when he caught Kaneki shaking his head, a finger against his ghastly mask. Harry's mouth snapped shut of its own accord.

Umbridge inhaled and exhaled. "The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizards. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'."

The rest of class was silent, until it was time for the next lesson. Harry, Ron and Hermione had just left the classroom with Harry still silently fuming when Kaneki appeared.

"Thank you for defending me just now, Professor Kaneki," Harry said. He had no idea why someone like Kaneki would help him out, but it was better to make allies than enemies.

Kaneki brushed it away. "Call me Kaneki. I am no professor."

"But—"

"I do not expect thanks. I was merely saying my piece. However, I do hope you will be more careful in the future. Misbehaviour in Professor Umbridge's class will cost you more than just detention and lost house points."

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded.

Kaneki sighed. "It's time for your next lesson. You can find me in the Astronomy Tower if you require assistance."

With that, he melted into the shadows as if he had never been there.

—

Kaneki appeared in Dumbledore's office."Did you call me for a reason, Headmaster?" Kaneki bowed in greeting.

"I have informed Arima of your current status." said Dumbldore.

Kaneki almost stumbled.

"He decided that you can continue your job, however someone else will come and help you."

Kaneki didn't like the sound of that.

The door to the office opened, and Kaneki found himself facing Ayato Kirishima, brother of Touka.

Ayato was clearly just as shocked. "Eyepatch…? What…"

Kaneki stared at Dumbledore, then shook his head. "He's even more likely to slip than I am."

"Who are you—"

"Ayato!" Kaneki snapped, nerves frayed. He cracked his knuckle. "Do you want a repeat episode of what happened last time?"

Ayato paled, then grew furious again. "No, _you_ shut up, you fu—"

"Boys." Dumbledore said placidly.

"You can't help me, Ayato."

"I don't even know why I'm here!"

"Dumbledore, contact Arima to get him out of here. Touka will have my skin if anything happens with the doddering idiot."

"Arima? Doddering idiot?!"

"Slow down." Dumbledore held up a hand for silence.

Ayato scoffed at him. "Who are you, old man?"

"What has Arima told you?"

"Arima?" Ayato lookes surprised. "He only told me to 'finish my mission' and 'help Kaneki out'."

"Has he told you anything about magic?"

"No. What's magic got to do with this?"

Kaneki blinked. "It's got to do with everything."

—

The jumble of whispers seemed louder than ever, and Harry could tell that not all of the commotion was because of his lesson with Umbridge. Students were openly staring at the figure standing in front of the staff table—an eighteen-ish year old boy, with dark purple hair and a mask, like Kaneki. Speaking of which, they seemed to be arguing heatedly…or rather, the new boy was waving his arms to emphasise his points, while Kaneki calmly rebutted.

"They look like they know each other very well." Harry said.

"Mhm."

As Harry walked past the feasting tables, he caught the mutters and gossip.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory get murdered…"

"He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who…"

"Come off of it…"

"Who does he think he's kidding?"

"Pur-lease…"

Harry tried his best ignoring them. "What I don't get," he said, pulling the bench open for them to slide through, "Is why they seemed to believe Dumbledore when he announced it two months ago."

"The thing is, Harry," Hermione said grimly, "I'm not sure they actually did." She glanced at Dumbledore as he raised a hand for silence. The whispers took longer than usual to quiet down.

"Before we start our meal taking," Dumbledore started, "I would like to introduce a new transfer student from Tokyo's Aogiri Tree Academy, Mr. Ayato Kirishima. He will be joining seventh year." He gestured the purple haired boy to the stool, where the Sorting Hat sat in all of its tattered glory.

McGonagall placed the Hat on Ayato's head. When nothing happened for a few minutes, the whispers started to grow, only to be silenced by McGonagall's harsh glare.

Finally, the Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" and the applause started as Ayato made his way to the Gryffindor feast table. His eyes swept over Harry, and he started over. Harry gulped, the expression on the boy's face wasn't very friendly. At least what visible part of it. It all changed though, when he took the mask off and revealed a wide smile splitting his face. "Hi. I'm Ayato, as you know from that overly embarrassing intro." He bowed.

Harry scratched the back of his head. "I'm Harry Potter—" he waited for the accusatory stares, the recognition lighting up his face, but nothing happened, so he continued, hoping the latter didn't hear the pause, "And those are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Also Gryffindor prefects. If you need anything just ask. It's easy to get lost here, so you might want to stick to us for a while." Ron pipped up.

Ayato breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, some nice people who decide to help the poor fellow from Japan out. I've met a few Professors. Can't say they're glad to see me." He leaned in. "Especially that pink Professor…Professor Umbitc—"

"No swearing!" Hermione chastised.

"Okay, okay." Ayato raised his hands in mock surrender. "She's one of the Ministry, right?"

"Yeah." Harry confirmed.

"So, you're from Tokyo as well?" Hermione asked carefully.

Ayato nodded. "Kaneki's my partner. We work together eradicating the ghoul problem." His smile turned wry with a touch of irony.

"Kaneki did mention something about dangerous ghouls in Tokyo…" Harry said thoughtfully. "So how's it like, living in constant fear of them? Do they really survive on human flesh?" Ron shuddered.

"Yup. There _are_ some friendly ghouls, but you do not want to meet a hungry one."

"Wow…" For a moment, Harry could only imagine how hard life must've been in Tokyo.

"But anyways," Ayato dismissed it. "Could you guys show me the dorms?"

"No problem."

—

Kaneki sensed it when he was passing, no, dropping by Umbridge's office. The Dark taint of magic that his enhanced ghoul senses had picked up, quite faint but still there nonetheless, seemed to be coming from the drawer of Umbridge's desk. In a flash, he was in, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the poor colour choice—the bright splatters of pink positively blinded him. He really felt bad for the kittens on the walls. He didn't have a thing against pink, but when it was on Umbridge, he couldn't help but feel agitated; he wanted to tear her throat out, just to see her scream and writhe on the ground in pain. He cleared the gory thoughts out of his mind as he opened the drawer, and was met by an ordinary sight : a few stacked quills, but surprisingly with no ink visible. The quill tips were stained red with…

 _Blood._ Kaneki exhaled. A pang of hunger hit him hard, and he gripped the pink embroidery tablecloth tightly, enough to tear chunks of it out without even him noticing. He released the tight grip, pink pieces falling gently to the ground.

That vile woman was using blood quills on innocent students.

That _vile_ woman was using blood quills on innocent students.

That _vile woman was using blood quills on innocent students._

The anger hit him harder than hunger, his vision tinted completely red and he knew without a doubt that his kakuja was out, gleaming and scarlet against his pale skin. All he could focus on was the fact that Umrbidge, an acclaimed teacher of the Ministry, was using blood quills on students for detention. Alright, as a ghoul he had probably spilled more blood than Umbridge could ever imagine. But he was a sick, twisted and sadistic creature.

For a moment, he remembered his mantra : As the strong, I have the right to devour the weak.

Then he thought, screw it. His mission was to protect Hogwarts, and however he was unwilling to accept this option, he _had_ in fact given Arima the word that he would protect Harry Potter with his life. Arima hadn't exactly voiced it out loud, but Kaneki knew he was allowed to eradicate all threats and enemies, as long as he did it quickly and quietly and cleared up the mess.

Dolores Umbridge was most definitely a threat.

The nerve of that—

He calmed himself down. There would be no use killing her right now, no purpose would be served except for the fact that she would suffer. He toyed with the idea for a moment before disposing it.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and clicking. It was Umbridge.

Kaneki grabbed a handful of quills, closed the drawer and vanished.

Later, Umbridge would wonder why her tablecloth was torn into pieces.

—

Kaneki found Ayato in the Gryffindor dorm early in the morning. It seemed he had a knack for waking people up at the worse timings, though Ayato refrained from punching him. Barely.

"What?" Ayato stared at him in disbelief. Here was Eyepatch, the notoriously merciless and ruthless killer, an SS-rated ghoul, who was angry over the fact that a few children got their hands scratched. He knew it probably went much deeper than that, but right now it was four in the morning and his sleep deprived and cranky brain could not help but make that pessimistic comment.

"Did you listen to what I just said the past minute?" Kaneki blew an exasperated breath. He tended to loosen up more around Ayato, due to the numerous life and death situations they had pulled through.

"Yes, I did. Are you nuts?"

"I am, in fact, taking mental stability potions." Kaneki said flatly, Ayato had clearly hit a dead end. "I do not wish to rip the school apart."

Ayato rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the growing headache bursting beneath his eyelids. It was way too early for him to deal with it.

"Look, Kaneki, how about I find you after class later? I can't think right now, and you can tell me whatever wicked plans you have _then."_

Kaneki just glared at him and disappeared.

Ayato smiled as he curled back into his warm, welcoming blankets. "Glad to know you still have some humanity left."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four — New Rules, New Gameplay

Harry dreamed many dreams.

His body had changed into something smooth, strong and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across the dark, chilling stone…he was flat on the floor, sliding along his belly…it was dark, but yet he could see objects surrounded in vibrant colours…he was slithering along the empty corridor…it was not empty, there was a dark form sitting there, slumped…he opened his mouth and tasted his scent—alive, but drowsy…the man was stirring, moving…he had to get back to his master, but he had no choice…he reared his head, hissing, and bit into the man's chest, the warm blood fountaining over him, a wave of scarlet crimson…the flesh easily tearing underneath his fangs…

His forehead was aching terribly…

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry's eyes peeled open, and he found himself on his bed, his hair plastered to his forehead in cold sweat. His heartbeat was accelerating, feeling the cool air against his burning skin.

Ron was standing above him, a look of concern on his face. "Harry, mate, are you alright? You're burning up, and tossing in your sleep."

Harry took in gulping breaths of air into his aching, burning lungs. He had to tell Ron.

"He's really sick," a scared voice said.

"Ron…" he rasped. "Your father…he's in trouble…get somebody—" He retched, the sudden pain in his stomach making him double up.

He vaguely heard someone running off, and Ron's voice, far off, saying, "Neville's gone to get help…just hang on, okay?"

"No," Harry gripped Ron's wrist. "Your dad! He's been bitten, the blood is everywhere…"

Ron blinked uncertainly. "Harry, you were just dreaming…"

"No, I'm fine, I'm not dreaming! Your dad, he's hurt somewhere out there…"

He tried to get up again, only to get held back by Ron. "Mate, you're sick. Help is coming."

Right that moment, Professor McGonagall hurried in. "Mr. Potter, where does it hurt?"

"I'm not hurt!" Harry snapped. "It's Mr. Weasley! He's being attacked by a large snake and he's bleeding out right now!"

Professor McGonagall surveyed his state. "And how do you know this?"

"Through a dream I had just now!" Harry answered, frustrated.

"Are you sure it's not a dream but a vision?"

"Yes! I'm not lying!" said Harry angrily; would none of them understand? "He's dying right now!"

"Alright. Throw some robes on, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

"You believe me?" Harry blinked owlishly, his anger disappearing.

"No need to look so incredulous, Mr. Potter. We're going to find the Headmaster now."

—

Harry was ready to tear his hair out by then. The irritation that nobody understood how perilous the situation Mr. Weasley was in was seeping in, and it did not help that Dumbledore was avoiding eye contact with him, staring at his own interlocked fingers.

"It wasn't a nightmare," Harry said wearily for the umpteenth time. "I was asleep, then I saw it happen through the snake's eyes…"

Even after he said it, he felt slightly ridiculous, dragging everyone out of bed because of a little dream he had had. But he dismissed the notion; better be safe than sorry that Mr. Weasley was alive.

"Is Arthur seriously injured?" Dumbledore's tone had sharpened.

"YES!" Why were they all so slow to receive the information? Each second could mean Mr. Weasley—

The door opened, and in strode Kaneki, mask on. "What a big racket you're making over nothing," he mused.

"It's not nothing!"

Kaneki's gaze flitted to him. "Worse things happen." He directed his gaze at Dumbledore. "I've delivered him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He's lost a few pints of blood, but the snake only bite once. Chances of survival are a bit higher than fifty, I say." The casualty Kaneki was treating this situation made Harry fume, but he bottled it up. At least Mr. Weasley was in medical care right now. There was nothing more he could do.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, would you mind waking the other Weasley children…"

"Yes, of course," Professor McGonagall said, looking at the still-faced Ron, and went out.

Kaneki rubbed his gloved hands. Harry shuddered, paling as flakes of dried blood fell onto the ground. Mr. Weasley's blood. Ron was completely white and bloodless.

"Phineas!" Dumbledore called at one of the portraits. "Phineas, go to your other portrait and tell Sirius that Arthur Weasley has been seriously injured and his wife, children, Harry Potter and a new Order member will be arriving at his house to stay."

"Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay," Phineas recited once in a bored tone, then disappeared from his canvas.

Just then, Fred, George and Ginny rushed in. "What happened?" Ginny demanded. "Professor McGonagall says Dad's hurt…"

"You will be be meeting your mother in Sirius' house right now, using this Portkey." Dumbledore indicated the innocent little kettle on his desk. "We're just waiting for Phineas to send in confirmation that the coast is clear."

As if on cue, Phineas appeared. "He says he'll be delighted," he said. "Odd taste in house guests, I say."

"Alright, you all have used a Portkey before, am I correct?" Dumbledore said.

Kaneki raised an eyebrow apprehensively.

"You're going too?" Harry blurted.

"I'm part of the Order—" he broke off suddenly. "Dumbledore, I'm going to get Ayato."

He disappeared.

A few moments later, he reappeared, a sleepy Ayato in his grip. Kaneki shook him awake. "Ayato, wake up. We're going to meet the rest of the Order."

Ayato's eyes blinked open groggily. "The Order…what?"

Kaneki leaned in and whispered something.

Ayato grunted. "Alright. So how do we use this Portkey?"

—

The moment Ayato hit the couch, he was out cold. He could seriously sleep anywhere, anytime, Kaneki thought bemusedly. He didn't really need to sleep, so he padded out of the living room, surveying the multiple slashed and empty portraits. Yet another wizarding thing; sometimes he completely forgot that the portraits could eavesdrop and move anywhere.

He checked the whole house for any bugging device, or any trace of Dark Magic that could be found. There wasn't, but he did find some interesting books that he could make work of. Harry and his friends were probably going to take some time visiting Mr. Weasley.

Kaneki knew he might've sounded excessively cruel to Harry before, when he'd dismissed the injury as nothing, but really, for a moment he'd forgotten that Mr. Weasley was a human, and humans were just so frail and fragile. Just one snap, one bite, and their life was ebbing away. How could strength exist in something that blew apart at the brush of the wind? The snake wound, had it been inflicted on him, would closed moments after, the stain of blood the only after effect. But when it was inflicted on a wizard, they were immediately in mortal danger. Magic users might think themselves as higher and mightier than Muggles, but really, they'd all crush beneath a stronger force…like ghouls. For some peculiar reason, Kaneki was immune to spells. He'd had Dumbledore try all of the Unforgivable Curses on him, including the one that apparently 'nobody survived except Harry' (Dumbledore had been extremely hard to persuade to do the testing), but it all deflected. They'd tried some jinxing curses on Ayato, and the poor ghoul ended up in the infirmary for the rest of the day.

His kagune ached, yearning to be let out. He'd kept it cooped up for too long, and like suppressed limbs, the lack of activity was starting to tear into his back. He took controlling breaths, forcing the pain away.

I am in command.

I am in command.

I am in command.

He felt a little better, repeating that mantra until the ache disappeared from his back. He had just settled down with a book when the door opened, and in came Harry and the Weasley kids. He knew something was wrong looking at Harry's face, shut like a door, and the others' worried and frightened expressions.

Without a word, Harry had charged upstairs, leaving Kaneki, a sleeping Ayato and the Weasley siblings in the room. Ginny had went upstairs to find Harry, and the twins disappeared into the kitchen. As Ron was about to leave, his expression preoccupied, Kaneki asked, "What happened?"

Ron looked at anything that wasn't him. "Nothing," he muttered.

"I do hope you realise that lying to my face is not a good idea."

"Harryspossessedbyyouknowwho," Ron mumbled.

Kaneki just looked at him.

Ron sighed. "Harry…he's possessed by You-Know-Who."

"Really?" Kaneki rubbed his chin. "Why do you think so?"

Ron cast a nervous glance around. "He's been, you know, dreaming about Voldemort visions and—"

Kaneki raised a hand to stop him. "So, having prophetic visions about being a snake now counts as being possessed. Interesting society you have here."

"What? No, that's not what I meant!"

"On the contrary, I think that's exactly what you're implying, yet even you can't see the sense in it. Go," he pushed Ron out of the living room.

Ayato cracked open an eyelid. "Since when have you been—"

"Shut UP!"

—

"Ayato, get your lazy ass up before I make you," Kaneki hissed, slapping Ayato on the side of his face hard enough to leave a red scorching mark.

Ayato groaned. "Why must you have the habit of terrible timing?"

Kaneki slapped him again.

"Alright, I'm awake!" Ayato rolled out of bed, stretching like a cat. "What's the occasion now? Do you need me to water plants? Shop for groceries?"

Kaneki ignored his sarcastic comments. "Order meeting in five minutes. Better get dressed." He swept his critical gaze along Ayato's sleep tousled hair, groggy eyes and pjs. "And please avoid losing your temper later on."

"What am I, your child?" Ayato retorted angrily, but Kaneki was already downstairs, startling Lupin and Sirius as they sat around the table, waiting for the other members. "Good morning," he greeted politely as he sat down in the corner.

"Good morning," Lupin echoed. "But you're not supposed to be here. This is an Order meeting for adults. And I wasn't aware there was a new Order member."

"I'm twenty." said Kaneki, amused, "I'm a new member. Kaneki Ken, from Japan."

"Pleased to meet you, Kaneki. Do you mind if I call you Kaneki?"

Kaneki nodded, but said nothing more.

A few minutes passed before the room filled, and Kaneki coveted every face into memory. There was Mad-Eye Moody, Nyphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley….then lastly Dumbledore, who had been able to draw away from Hogwarts temporarily.

Ayato was scowling at him, which seemed to be his default expression; Tonks (as she'd called them to address her as such) was animatedly chatting with Lupin; Sirius, host and owner of the house, was sipping a goblet of butterbeer. Everyone stopped talking once Dumbledore came in.

"To start off our meeting," Dumbledore began, "We have two new members, Ayato Kirishima and Kaneki Ken. They are fully qualified adults, I assure you, and as capable of mission-handling as any of us are."

Kaneki saw Molly scowl. "Dumbledore, you know how I feel about teenagers being involved with this."

"Excuse me," Ayato started, "But I am an adult, and I am fully able to kill every single one of you here."

Kaneki gave him the look.

Ayato glared resolutely back.

Finally, Kaneki coughed. "Excuse his manners, please. He's had a rough time."

He could see Mrs. Weasley's cheeks colouring. "I don't believe this," she muttered.

Dumbledore smiled amicably. "Now that we've sorted out our issues, it's time to focus on the Dark Lord."

The atmosphere of the room dropped drastically. Kaneki's gaze flicked up at Dumbledore. "Will someone please enlighten me on the story of Voldemort?" A circle of gasps hissed through the room, partially out of fear and surprise. Kaneki almost snorted. If this Order wanted to suppress Voldemort, they couldn't chicken out just at his name. The fear would only strengthen Voldemort.

"His birth name was Tom Riddle, born with destiny of great power. The years turned him bitter, and he meddled with what he shouldn't have. In the end, the power tempted him, and he just couldn't refuse." According to the rather surprised looks on the other members' faces, Kaneki guessed what had just been said was not wide knowledge.

Kaneki dipped his head.

"Wait." It was Mad-Eye Moody. "How do we know Kaneki and Ayato are on our side? What if they are spies? What if they drank a Polyjuice potions?" Oh yes, Kaneki had definitely heard about the Polyjuice incident.

Paranoid and cautious. He would probably live a long life.

"I don't know about you guys," said Tonks, "But I, for one, trust Dumbledore with my life, and all the decisions he makes."

"So do I," said Lupin.

Sirius sighed. "I suppose I do too."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Same here." Bill Weasley said, a hand wrapped around Fleur's waist.

One by one, each member pledged their loyalty to Dumbledore, until Kaneki and Ayato were the only unspoken ones left. Funny enough how an accusation had turned into group trust pledge.

"What?" Ayato's tone turned defensive as every single pair of eyes fell on him. "I've only known you lot for one day, how am I supposed to trust you?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "We're literally dedicated to eradicating Dark Lords. That makes us the good guys. If you can't trust the good guys, who can you trust?"

"Myself?"

"Ayato." Kaneki looked directly and chillingly at Ayato's fiery eyes. "Sit down. If you're unwilling to participate, I'm sure Dumbledore and Arima can arrange for you to become a dove." The warning and implement was clear in his flat voice.

Ayato sat down. "I still don't trust them. Especially you."

Kaneki cracked a knuckle, and beside him, Tonks jumped.

"I didn't expect anything else."

—

Christmas came in a whirlwind of festiveness, excitement and bundles of joy. After Ron had cleared things up with him, everything was much smoother. The entire house was cleaned to the point of sparkling, thanks to the help of everyone, and the red green decorations around the areas seemed to lift the mood. The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but instead with wreaths of holly and tinsels of gold and silver. Snow was heaped in a pile near the front door on the threadbare carpets. A ginormous Christmas tree, wrapped completely with streamers and ornaments and lit with glittering live faeries stood in the middle of the sitting room, next to the logged fireplace. On the mantel, magical snow globes was placed to be forever drifting. There was a magical snow cloud in the dining room that was enhanced to snow indoors and evaporate once it touched down.

Kaneki had been caught up in the hailstorm, and he was surprised to actually find himself relaxing and lowering his guards slightly around the Order and the children; it was starting to feel like home. Like Anteiku. At that thought, his thoughts soured a little. What were they doing now, Touka and Yomo and Nishio-senpai—he cut the train of thought before it could continue. It had been a few months. The last time he had seen them was during the dove raid, and that was seriously depressing. More depressing than usual. They could all be dead, or tortured, or chained up right now. He had no idea of knowing. He briefly entertained the idea of them missing him before discarding it away; it was rubbish to raise his hopes, only to get them dashed. Nobody missed him. He was nothing, after all.

So imagine his surprise when he found a pile of presents waiting for him when he sat down in the breakfast table. He looked confusedly at Mrs. Weasley, who was beaming. "Erm, is this…"

"These are all for you, sweetie!" Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Ron's told me about you, and Dumbledore's told me how you're an orphan. I will also remember that you were the one who rescued my husband." Her gaze turned into one of pity. "You're welcome to the Burrow anytime!"

Kaneki winced at the strange and foreign affection, but nonetheless thanked her as he ate his breakfast. Soon, he was finished before others had even started to wake up. Taking up the cluster of presents, he passed a yawning Ron and Harry in the stairwell. "Bloody hell, how do you wake up so early?" Ron asked, suppressing another yawn.

Kaneki felt his lips twitch.

Back in the safety of his room, he finally let the presence drop. He couldn't believe it. They had actually got him presents. He was a stranger, and they gave him Christmas presents. The idea of it was so foreign, he had to knock his head a few times. Maybe the centipede was still messing with his brain.

They actually accepted him.

This was probably the first gifts he had ever received (except for Hide's). He had been a social introvert without any friends, prioritising books and academics above everything (except for Hide). He grew up in a poor family, and thus never had anything like presents for his birthdays and Christmases. After becoming a one-eyed ghoul, the entire notion of celebrating had slipped out of his mind. He was a monster who ate flesh to survive. He was broken and fragile, like a piece of glass, glued together over and over again after it shattered. He wasn't sure how long he could hold on, but seeing the gifts all wrapped nicely in colourful parcels made him feel better.

There was someone out there who actually sort of cared. Granted, they would most probably run away once they knew of his ghoul nature, but it was nice to pretend.


End file.
